


Draco Malfoy and the Rejected Handshake

by WoNdY_Alice



Series: Draco Malfoy's Tale [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Behind the Scenes, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Good Draco Malfoy, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, POV Draco Malfoy, Pining Draco Malfoy, Pre-Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Protective Draco, Protective Severus Snape, Slow Build, Well-Meaning Dumbledore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2018-08-12 06:59:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7925038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoNdY_Alice/pseuds/WoNdY_Alice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy hated Harry Potter. Really, he did. It was just pure coincidence that he kept saving him all the damn time. (Or Draco Malfoy's POV throughout the Harry Potter series)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Boy who Behaved

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Ever since Cursed Child came out, I've been dying to write a Harry Potter fanfic. I've never written for Harry Potter before, but I couldn't get any of the idea's out of my head, so I figured I might as well write one! This is a fic from Draco's point of view, but it has a "Wicked" theme (aka, the bad guy is actually the good guy, but everyone just perceives him as bad for one reason or another). Anyway, this will go along with the books and the movie's (some scenes are book specific while other's are move specific). Anyway, please enjoy! Also the title is inspired by a post from Tumblr that I can't find (but J.K. Rowling tweeted about it), so if any of you know the original poster, please let me know, so I can give them credit!

From an early age, Draco was taught about the respect that the Malfoy name demanded. As a Malfoy, he automatically earned the respect of everyone around him. The key of living up to the Malfoy name, his father taught him, was maintaining that respect. In doing so, Draco was denied many childhood pleasures like playing outside, making friends, or even throwing a tantrum. It was "unbefitting of a Malfoy" as his father liked to put it. Instead of toys and friends, reading had become his favorite activity, and with the library in the manor, he had no shortage of books to read. This made him far more educated than the other children, which only served to alienate him more when he did find people his age to talk to. It wasn't his fault though. As a Malfoy, he always had to behave poised, proper, and pristine.

It was incredibly frustrating.

At every event his parents dragged him to, Draco had to consistently smile and play the part of a perfect child. Many adults praised him for acting so mature for his age, and he would pretend to feel flattered. They would proceed to tell him how they wished their child would act like him and even went as far as pointing out their children in the crowd, who were all huddled together, laughing and having fun. Draco always stared at them in envy, wishing for once he could be a part of that crowd.

But he was a Malfoy, and a Malfoy had to act respectable in public.

In private, however, that was a different story. Draco could clearly see how differently his parents behaved in public compared to when they were in their home. It was such a startling difference that it caused Draco to question his father about it when he was younger, which was something he rarely did. He remembered that day vividly. His father was sitting in one of the chairs by the fireplace, and he was reading a book. Draco remembered bravely approaching the chair and announcing his presence. His father had turned to him when Draco, quite bravely in his opinion, asked, "Why do you not talk about mudbloods in public?"

His father tensed for a moment before he sighed, placing the book on the table next to him. "Come here, Draco."

Draco walked towards him, blinking in surprise when he actually lifted the child up and placed him on his lap. "Father?"

"Do you remember what I told you about the Malfoy name?" his father asked.

"Yes."

"Then you remember how our name demands a certain respect from those around us?"

"Yes."

"Our opinions on the mudbloods are controversial at best," he explained. "After the Wizarding War, the majority of lesser family's do not want to hear about our views because it reminds them too much about the Dark Lord."

"And they feared the Dark Lord." Draco stated, watching as his father smiled and nodded at him.

"So much so they cannot even speak his name." He smiled, almost nostalgically. "It was a shame that he was defeated. He would have revolutionized the Ministry and kept our bloodlines pure; however, those opinions are not for the public, and it would disgrace us."

Draco's eyebrows furrowed. "Why are they not popular opinions?"

"It is because of family's like the Weasley's," Lucius sneered in disgust at the name. "They are far too fond of muggles, and they do not care if their bloodline is tainted with weakness and impurity. That is why we have to keep our opinions private, do you understand?"

Draco nodded, and Lucius smiled. Knowing the conversation ended, Draco slid off the chair and walked out of the room, the new information swirling in his head. His father admitted that acting shameful in private was all right so long as no one in the public knew…

It was a lesson that Draco took to heart that day, and it shaped his personality and his actions greatly.

***

"—And that is why, under these conditions, I believe that this new policy would greatly improve—" Draco absently nodded his head at whatever the man before him was saying. He was at another Ministry event, and once again, he was forced to mingle with the rest of the adults. His father and mother were off somewhere, most likely speaking to more important guests while he was left to smile and listen to whoever approached him.

Every time his parents left him alone at one of these events, adults would always approach him and treat him like a child. After briefly speaking to him, they would learn that he was much smarter than they expected and that his father was an incredibly powerful man. Almost instantly, they would try to impress him, most likely so he would talk to his father about them.

At this particular event, something rather odd happened.

"Oh what are you babbling on about?" A man with bright red hair and freckles chuckled. "He's just a kid! He doesn't care about policies!"

"A-ah but you don't know  _whose_ child this is!" The man stammered.

"I don't really care whose child it is! No kid wants to hear about boring governments!" The red haired man laughed as though this was just an amusing joke. "Why don't you talk to someone who would actually understand what you're talking about, hm?"

The man glared at the red haired man before stomping away. Draco frowned and glanced at the man. Judging by his appearance, he must have been a Weasley. His father told him enough about this family to know they were poor and had far too many children. Frowning, Draco stated, "I understood what he was talking about."

The Weasley man grinned, "Did you now? Sorry about that. Did you actually want to talk to him about the banking system though?"

Draco narrowed his eyes, trying to read the man before him. "I did."

The Weasley man snorted. "Could have fooled me. You looked incredibly bored, and I don't blame you. I even get bored listening to them talk about those things, and I work at the Ministry!"

"Yes, I'm aware," Draco nearly rolled his eyes. They were at a Ministry event! Honestly, how stupid did this man think he was? Still, Draco frowned, the man could clearly see he was bored with the conversation. Not many adults could see through his stoic mask... in fact, not even his own parents could. Why was a Weasley able to see things about him that even his own father could not?

"Plus I'm sure you want to talk about more exciting things! Like next week!" Weasley continued to speak excitedly, interrupting Draco's thoughts.

Draco frowned, "Next week?"

"The sixth year anniversary that Harry Potter took down You-Know-Who!" Wealsey whispered excitedly, and Draco froze. He knew all about Harry Potter and how he somehow defeated the Dark Lord. He also knew that it was a sullen day in the Malfoy household, and he would never think of looking forward to it. Still, Draco remembered his father's words about the difference of private and public behavior, so he smiled regardless.

"Yes, I am." He lied.

"I think it should become a holiday!" The Weasley man continued to grin. "Six years later, and I'm still excited about it!"

"Me too," Draco forced another grin. "It truly is amazing how a baby could possess such great power to defeat You-Know-Who."

"And a good thing too," The Weasley continued to ramble, almost as though he had forgotten that he was speaking to a child. "I wonder what ever happened to little Harry Potter…"

Draco tilted his head in confusion. "Does he not live with his parents?"

The Weasley man frowned at him. "Ah, no. His parents were mercilessly killed that night by You-Know-Who."

"W-what?" Draco froze then silently cursed at his stutter. "Did they attack him?"

"Well, no?" He was staring at the child with confused eyes, as though he was repeating knowledge that should be common. It was the first time anyone had ever treated Draco like he was stupid, and he instantly hated the feeling. "You-Know-Who invaded their home and just killed them."

"Why?" Draco breathed out, shocked to his very core that the Dark Lord would kill an innocent family.

"I don't know… there were a lot of reasons really," the man shrugged. "James Potter was pureblood, but he married a muggle-born woman. They were also active in the fight against him. It was also common for You-Know-Who to torture and kill his victims simply for being who they are. Heck, the only reason he's gone is because he tried to kill a baby. His violence isn't surprising… are you alright?"

No, Draco was not certainly alright! His eyes drifted to his father, who was speaking to one of the guests. Of all the stories his father told him of the Wizarding War, those details had never arisen. He had been told bedtime stories about how the Dark Lord rose during a time when wizards were impure, choosing to marry muggles and accept muggle-borns into their schools and government. He had been told how cruel and vicious muggles were and how they would slaughter witches and wizards years ago. The Dark Lord wanted to protect the purity of the magic that witches and wizards possessed while also keeping the lesser, violent muggles away from their more civilized society.

But his father never told him the Dark Lord would kill and torture innocent people. He never even told him the Dark Lord killed Potter's parents or attempted to kill an innocent baby! Just that the Potter baby somehow defeated the Dark Lord. Draco couldn't ever recall his father even speaking of the Potter adults!

"Y-yes," Draco stated, trying to keep his voice and actions under control. "I just… I suppose my parents were trying to protect me from the violence of the story…"

"Oh!" Weasley gasped in horror. "I'm so sorry! I didn't realize some family's would try and censor the story! I didn't mean to—"

"Didn't mean to what?" A cold voice entered the conversation, and Draco froze at the sound of his father. Almost instantly, Draco saw Weasley's eyes darken, and he stood up taller.

"Malfoy." Weasley stated with a dark tone.

"Weasley." His father replied, disgust clear in his voice. "What were you speaking to my son about?"

Draco clenched his fists, his eyes darting from his father and Weasley. If Weasley revealed he told Draco the truth about what happened the night the Dark Lord was defeated, Lucius would no doubt try to cover up the story. Before the banquet, Draco would have never dreamed that Lucius would ever lie to him. Now more than ever Draco wanted the truth, and he couldn't have his father's lies stand in the way of that.

"He was talking about some muggle device," Draco lied smoothly. He was able to do it with most adults, so there was no reason why his father would be able to detect the lie. Weasley's eyes widened in shock, and he practically gaped at the kid. Draco nearly rolled his eyes. Did the Weasley man know no subtly? "What?" He spat out, trying to cover for the idiot man. "Didn't think I would tell my father the truth, did you?"

"I…" Weasley trailed off, clearly not knowing what to say.

Lucius narrowed his eyes at the red haired man. "I would appreciate it if you did not talk to my son about such useless things."

It was obvious that the Weasley man was still recovering from Draco's lie, and he merely nodded. Glancing at Draco with a strange expression, he turned and walked away. Draco nearly sighed in relief, but he wouldn't dare do that in front of his father. Instead he sneered in the man's direction, "Pity, isn't it? That a pureblood could have such a love for muggles?"

Lucius smirked at his son in pride before walking away, most likely to talk to someone more influential. Draco finally let out the sigh of relief he was holding in, and he watched his father walk away with a newfound suspicion he never felt before.

Perhaps he should do more reading about what exactly transpired during the Wizarding War…


	2. The House-Elf

Surprisingly, the Malfoy Manor library had no books that described the events of the Wizarding War. Draco had scanned every title on every shelf, but he could only find books about the philosophy behind the war rather than the events. Even then, all of those books had the same rhetoric, praising the Dark Lord's opinions but not mentioning his actions. The few books that mentioned Harry Potter said nothing about his parents or about the apparent attack from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. It almost made Draco think that the Weasley man was just playing a trick on him in attempts to make him turn from his father.

Almost… it was obvious the Weasley man did not have enough intelligence for such a plan.

Draco groaned, shutting the book softly and placing it back on the shelf. His father had clearly refused to buy any historical accounts of the war although Draco could not understand why. Did he want to censor the violence of the Dark Lord? Did he think Draco was unequipped to handle the story that apparently every wizarding child grew up with? Did he fear these stories would turn Draco away from the Dark Lord?

He had to find out, and he needed the right books.

But how was he supposed to acquire them? He could hardly go to Diagon Alley by himself. It would look strange for a Malfoy heir to be wandering in the streets alone. He would immediately draw attention onto himself.

He needed assistance, but where could he find it?

Standing up, he stretched his legs slightly, lost in his thoughts, when a sudden movement caught his eye. He frowned and stared at one of the house-elves, who was cleaning off some of the books. An idea bloomed in his head, and he approached the little elf, who appeared to be limping. Most likely his father had to discipline this one.

"You," he commanded.

The house-elf flinched and turned to him. "Y-yes, master?"

"I have a task for you," he stated, inwardly praising himself for his idea. House-elves had magic, and this one could easily use his to go to Diagon Alley and retrieve a few books for him.

The elf hung his head low. "Yes master?" he mumbled in a displeased voice. Draco frowned at the clear show of intolerance, but he ignored it. After all, it was hardly worth beating the elf over his tone of voice.

"I need you to go into Diagon Alley and get a few books for me." Draco said, listing off some of the book topics he would like.

The elf raised his head, confusion clear in those wide, bat-like eyes. "Master Malfoy does not allow for intolerable texts in this library, sir."

"I am your master."

"You is my master, but your father is my master above all," the elf shivered.

Draco clenched his fists, and the elf flinched, as though expecting to be hit. Draco rolled his eyes at the obvious fear in the elf, and he grounded out, "I need the books."

"I cannot—"

"I will be your master one day." Draco claimed only to feel foolish. Was he truly trying to reason with an elf? Has he really been brought down so low?

"But you are not now."

It took every bit of effort for Draco not to scream at the elf. There must have been something he could do to make the elf obey him! For a brief moment, Draco remembered all the times his father struck down the house-elves in front of him and how it encouraged the beasts to never disobey his family again. Looking at the little elf, Draco raised his hand, prepared to strike the creature. The elf, in return, shut his eyes and tensed, preparing fro the blow that would obviously come.

Draco froze at the sight before him. It was so pathetic and pitiful that Draco felt almost ridiculous for needing to hit such a creature. Shaking his head, he tried to move his hand nonetheless, but it wouldn't budge. He just couldn't hit something so pathetic. Cursing at himself in his head, Draco slowly lowered his arm, glaring at his own hand as though it were his fault. Why couldn't he just hit the damn elf? His father had done it plenty of times! Without even blinking!

"S-sir?" a soft voice broke from his thoughts, and Draco turned to the elf. He blinked at the complete change of expression on its face. His wide green eyes stared at Draco with something akin to gratefulness, and a smile was forming on the elf's lips. Draco stared in shock.

House-elves could smile?

"W-what?" Draco spat out, trying to regain some aspect of control.

"You did not punish Dobby!" The elf grinned happily, tears rolling down the creature's cheeks.

"You have a name?" Draco gaped. A name? It was far too… human for elves to have names or even feelings. Something akin to guilt and shame spread in his chest. Was there truly so much he did not know about this world?

"I do, sir," Dobby nodded frantically.

"Do… do you have anything you want?" Draco stared at the elf. If an elf could feel happiness, did that mean that elves had wants? Desires?

"Yes sir, although it is improper to say what." Dobby stated, cringing as though he expected to be yelled at for wanting things.

"I see…" Draco nodded, a plan forming in his head. "I need these books. I… I want them. I will be your master one day, so if you get me these books, I will give you whatever it is you want."

"B-but… I will be disobeying the master," Dobby whispered.

Draco bit the inside of his cheek. "And I will be disobeying my father. We will keep each other's secret, and we will both get what we want. Does that sound like a good idea?"

Tears came to Dobby's eyes. "Master Draco is asking for my opinion? You are far too kind!"

Draco sighed. Yes, that did appear to be the problem, but he would have to think about his reluctance to hit the elf later. For now, he needed information on the war, and he needed Dobby to help him. "Alright. Here's what I need you to do…"

***

A few days passed before Dobby could sneak out of the house without his father noticing. During the few hours the elf was gone, Draco could not stop shaking. What if his father caught Dobby? Dobby would have to tell him about why he had been out in the shops, and it would incriminate Draco. His father would be furious and demand to know why Draco was questioning everything he had been taught. What if his father grew to hate him?

"Draco?"

He flinched and turned to his mother, who was staring at him in concern. "Yes mother?" He tried to sound calm.

"Is everything alright?" She sat down next to him.

"Yes, mother," Draco lied but it was not nearly as convincing as it usually was.

His mother pressed her lips together in disapproval. "It was that Weasley man, wasn't it?"

He could feel his entire body go cold. "W-what?" he stammered, and his mother instantly picked up on that. He never stammered or stuttered, as it was improper of a Malfoy.

"I knew it," she sighed. "Your father told me how he discussed muggle items with you."

Relief spread through his body, and Draco nodded, "He did."

His mother shook her head in disapproval. "That family," she spat out. "They truly are tarnishing the names of purebloods. I thought those muggle-lovers could go no lower, but I suppose I was wrong. To go as far as to convert children to their side!"

"I did not think he would dare approach me," Draco pretended to nod in agreement.

"He should not have." She agreed before frowning. "Draco, did that man mention anything else to you? Besides the muggle items?"

"No," Draco lied.

"Are you sure?" she narrowed her eyes, and Draco tried to keep his face impassive.

"Yes," Draco confirmed.

His mother nodded but she clearly did not look pleased. "Draco… I…" she sighed, running her hand through her hair. "This is a conversation you and your father need to have, but he is not here right now. I did not think we would have to talk to you this early about it, but the Weasl may have forced our hand. I suppose I should try and be blunt with my question. Did he speak about his queer son at all?"

Draco titled his head to the side. That had been unexpected. Still, Draco handled the question with grace and, for once, the truth. "No, mother. He only spoke of the muggle items. I did not know his son was a fag."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "You know about them?"

"I have open access to the books in our library, Mother," Draco couldn't help but smirk. "Of course I know."

Narcissa beamed with pride. "I should have known you were smart enough to figure it out! Honestly, that family has been so proud about it."

"Perhaps they lack the intelligence to make the proper potions," Draco teased. His mother laughed and together they continued to discuss the Weasley's and their family's deformities. Draco couldn't help but revel in the conversation, and he grinned whenever his mother complimented his intelligence. After the past few days of being faced with ignorance, it was nice to feel confident in his knowledge again.

***

When he finally arrived in his room, he blinked at the stack of books on the floor. Dobby was sitting next to the pile, grinning as though breaking the rules had given him some sort of rush. Draco rolled his eyes and sat on the floor next to the elf, not bothering to greet him. Luckily Dobby knew to remain silent, and Draco looked over the texts. All of them were historical accounts of the Wizarding War, and judging by their titles, they lacked any of the bias that plagued the Malfoy library.

"You accomplished the task well, Dobby," Draco praised but squirmed uncomfortably when Dobby beamed at him as though Draco was the kindest person he had ever met.

"Thank you sir!"

"What do you want in repayment?" Draco asked, knowing fully well that as a Malfoy he had to honor his word.

Dobby shifted uncomfortably but raised his head in determination. "When the time comes and you are my master, will you present Dobby with a piece of clothing?"

Draco froze and stared at Dobby, practically gaping. "Y-you… want to be set free?" He asked incredulously. House-elves never wanted to be set free! They adored working for their masters and relished in receiving tasks!

"I do, sir," Dobby nodded. "Dobby wants paid work!"

Draco almost felt light headed. "I…"

"Sir…"

"Alright," he said, barely recognizing what he was agreeing to. "I… you can…"

"Master?"

"I agreed to it," Draco mumbled. "So yes."

Dobby's eyes widened. "Truly?"

"Yes."

"Thank you sir!" Dobby beamed. "You are a great person!"

At the compliment, Draco could feel the warmth spreading to his face. He stared down at the house-elf, eyes wide in disbelief. "That's the first time anyone's ever said that to me," he said without even thinking about it. Dobby's eyes softened in sympathy, and Draco recoiled at the words that came out of his mouth. What would make him say something like that? To a house-elf of all things? He shook his head and turned his attention to the books, not wanting to think about how much Dobby has surprised him in the past few days.

Dobby noticed his shift in attention and backed up, staring curiously at Draco as he slide his fingers through the pages but did not read them. "Sir?" he asked hesitantly. "Dobby got the right books?"

Draco paused for a moment. "Yes, Dobby, you got the right books. I just…"

Draco sighed, wondering how he could possibly explain to a house-elf the fear thundering through his body. In these books were the secrets his father kept from him about the war. Secrets that, apparently, every other wizarding child knew but him. What would he find out in these texts? What other terrible crimes did the Dark Lord commit for the sake of blood purity?

"Read it, sir," Dobby spoke up.

If Draco hadn't been so distracted, he would have yelled at Dobby for giving him, a Malfoy, a command. Instead he took a deep breath and opened the pages of the books.

He did not come out of his room for the rest of the night.


	3. Confusion at the Shop

“Sir?”

“What?”

“Are you alright, sir?”

“Yes Dobby.”

“Yes sir.”

Draco sighed, rolling his eyes as the house elf continued to stare at him with wide, terrified eyes. Somehow the house-elf always knew when Draco was experiencing any type of distress. Draco had no idea how the elf knew, but he supposed it was due to him somehow becoming his best friend over the years.

Best friends with a house-elf. How the great have fallen.

Draco shoved the thoughts to the back of his head and continued to stare at himself in the mirror. His blonde hair was slicked back, highlighting his sharp features. He appeared to be the spitting image of his father, which made him partly proud and partly sick.

His father was a hero to him. His father was everything to him.

But his father was also a murderer.

Years ago, Draco had read every detail he could on the war. Dobby continually snuck books into the house that Draco could read. It took a year before Draco finally accepted that multiple history books could not all be lying about the same details. His father helped He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named murder hundreds of people for the sake of blood purity.

The thought still made Draco’s stomach churn with disgust and unease.

“Sir?”

“What?” Draco snapped, glaring at the elf.

Dobby didn’t even flinch around him anymore. He merely stared into his eyes with pity. “You are not alright, sir.”

Draco rolled his eyes and turned back to the mirror, adjusting his collar. “It is none of your business Dobby.”

“Will you be alright at school sir?” Dobby questioned again.

Draco paused for a moment before nodding. “Yes. I will be.”

“What about the war?”

“What about it?” Draco didn’t look at him. “The war is over, and my father has been cleared on all charges brought against him. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named forced him to commit acts that he now regrets. While he values blood purity, he would never murder mudbloods.”

The lies felt natural at this point.

“You are a good liar, sir.”

Draco’s mouth twitched. “Thank you, Dobby.”

He didn’t bother keeping secrets from the house-elf anymore. After all, Dobby was there to witness Draco falling apart from the books. He was there to console Draco as he cried over the truth about his parents. He was also there to silently support him as Draco went through denial and demanded more books because _of course_ these books are lying.

He was there when Draco finally realized his parents were the liars all along.

“Sir? You will be making friends with others like you,” Dobby said, worry evident in his tone.

“No Dobby. They won’t be anything like me.”

***

“You will be in Slytherin,” his father stated.

“Of course, Father.” Of that, Draco had no doubt.

“You will make the right friends at this school.”

“Yes, Father.”

“You will make me proud.”

“That is my desire, Father.”

“Good.” His father’s lip twitched in an almost-smile.

“You say that as though he has not already made you proud,” his mother teased. “And don’t worry, dear. You will end up in Slytherin. Although I will not be surprised if Ravenclaw takes you.”

“As long as you do not go into the _other_ houses,” his father sneered with disgust.

His mother chuckled as though the other houses were not even an option. “Of course he won’t, dear.”

“Do not think so little of me father,” Draco smirked. He knew he would be in Slytherin. He had spent the past few years lying to his parents and sneaking in texts behind their back. It was very fitting of the house he would be in.

His father smiled proudly at him and grasped his shoulder, squeezing it. Draco smiled under its weight and thought about how he would make his father proud this year.

His goal was to be the top student of his year, which he would obviously be able to accomplish with his intelligence. He also wanted to befriend all of the pureblood children in order to secure allies for the future.

He would also keep his criticism of the war to himself. Instead of discussing the war with his newfound allies, he would concentrate on talking about separating the mudbloods and muggles. This would allow him to technically be telling the truth when discussing these topics with his friends and family.

After all, he _did_ believe in segregation, just not genocide.

So long as he acted appropriately in public, his private thoughts did not matter. His father said as much when he was a child.

Lost in thought, he did not notice he arrived at Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions.

“You will get your robes fitted while I retrieve your books,” his father said.

“I will look at some of the wand shops,” his mother said thoughtfully. “I would like to see what types of wands they are selling.”

“Alright,” Draco said, slightly surprised. His father had never left him alone in public before. Growing up, he thought his father didn’t want to appear negligent by having his child running around by himself. He now knew it was because his father did not want him to find out the details of the war. He supposed it made sense that his father would leave him alone now. After all, he would be going to Hogwarts where his father would have no control over what Draco read.

He supposed his father thought he was so brainwashed that he would not even bother reading intolerable texts.

As his parents walked away to conduct their errands, Draco sighed and walked into the store. He was immediately greeted by a woman whom he could only assume was Madam Malkin.

“Hello?” Madam Malkin smiled brightly. “Robes for Hogwarts I assume?”

“Yes,” Draco answered.

“Alright! Come to the back. I’ll get you fitted!”

Draco followed her and was greeted by a second witch. She began measuring his arms. At first, she attempted to start small talk, but he remained silent. She eventually took the hint and remained quiet.

“—Another young man being fitted up just now, in fact,” Draco overheard Madam Malkin state.

Draco’s body froze, and his breath got caught in his throat. Already? He would have to start interacting with other children so soon? He thought he would have a few more weeks to prepare before officially going to Hogwarts. What was he supposed to do? Should he automatically act as a proud son to his father? Start talking about the war? Find out where this child’s loyalties lie?

Draco tried to take in a deep breath and calm himself. _It’s just like the balls and parties,_ Draco reminded himself. _Act as though you’re at one of those. Remember, you’re a Malfoy. As long as you act as you are supposed to in public, you will be fine. Keep your secrets and your thoughts hidden._

The boy walked into the room, and Draco stole a glance at him. It was a boy he had never seen before. His dark hair was an absolute mess, and he was wearing tattered clothes. If Draco didn’t know any better, he would have assumed the boy was a Weasley.

However, the boy had no red hair, and he was buying new clothes instead of hand-me-down’s.

Draco analyzed him, trying to see if the boy’s features matched any of the adults he had met. Perhaps the boy was a mudblood? Draco’s lip curled in disgust at the thought.

“Hello,” he said politely. “Hogwarts, too?”

He turned to meet the boy’s eyes and was stunned into silence. He had a shade of bright green eyes under a pair of broken glasses. For some reason, his breath caught in his throat once again for entirely different reasons.

“Yes,” the boy replied.

Before Draco realized it, words were spilling out of his mouth. “My father’s next door buying my books and Mother’s up the street looking at wands. Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why first years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully Father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.”

What on earth was he saying? Him? Bully his father? He could barely state his own opinions in front of his father.

“Have you got your own broom?” Draco asked, feeling a redness creep into his cheeks. Why was he so embarrassed? Why was he fidgeting?

“No.”

“Play Quidditch at all?”

“No.”

 _Not much of a talker, is he?_ Draco thought to himself. “ _I_ do—Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my House, and I must say, I agree. Know what House you’ll be in yet?”

“No.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. Usually most children had some idea of what house they would be in unless…

This boy was definitely a mudblood.

“Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they,” Draco said, attempting to comfort the boy.

Why on earth he was attempting to comfort a mudblood was beyond him… perhaps it was pity…

But it didn’t feel like pity.

“I know I’ll be in Slytherin,” he continued, trying to distract himself from his own thoughts. “All of our family have been—imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?”

_And if I get into Gryffindor I’d be disowned._

“Mmm,” the boy hummed.

Draco was getting absolutely nowhere with the boy. But then again, why did he want to get anywhere with the boy? Why was he trying to hard to impress a mudblood?

“I say, look at that man!” Draco tried a new tactic. He gestured towards a huge man who towered over the rest of the people walking by.

“That’s Hagrid,” the boy replied. “He works at Hogwarts.”

Finally! More than one word.

Draco, pleased by the sudden development, continued, “Oh, I’ve heard of him! He’s a sort of servant, isn’t he?”

According to his father, Hagrid was lucky to even be working at Hogwarts to begin with. When he was a student, he would sneak dangerous monsters into the school. One year, multiple students were injured due to the monsters he kept, and one student _died._

It was one fact that Draco knew wasn’t a lie. After all, his father kept the newspapers from the time in the library.

“He’s the gamekeeper,” the boy corrected.

“Yes exactly. I heard he’s a sort of _savage_ ,” Draco paused. Perhaps he shouldn’t inform the boy of how Hagrid was a murderer. After all, the boy was a mudblood, and it seemed as though he knew next to nothing about Hogwarts. If he were to tell the boy that a murderer lived on the grounds, it might scare him off. Normally, Draco would want to scare away the mudblood, but the idea didn’t sit right with him this time.

His father would be incredibly disappointed.

Then again, Draco thought to himself, his father did try to kill them. While Draco did not want them dead, he still didn’t like them. Perhaps his attempt to protect this mudblood stemmed from overcompensating for his father’s actions during the war?

However, that didn’t feel right either…

“Lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and sets fire to his bed,” Draco edited the story.

“I think he’s brilliant.”

“Do you?” Draco said incredulously. It then clicked. The boy was _with_ Hagrid. Hagrid was the one helping the mudblood get accustomed to the Wizarding World. “Why is he with you? Where are your parents?”

 _“Remember Draco,”_ his father’s words rang in his head, _“muggles hate our kind. In the past, they’ve tried to burn us and hunt us down. They hate us, which is why we must stay away from them. They are dangerous, savage creatures.”_

Did the boy’s parents find out he was a wizard and disown him? Muggles were hateful enough to do so.

“They’re dead,” Harry stated.

Fuck.

Why was he so bad at this?

“Oh sorry,” Draco replied awkwardly before freezing. The boy was his age, which meant he was a baby during the war. Did his father… “But they were _our_ kind, weren’t they?”

_Please don’t tell me that my father killed this boy’s parents…_

Draco never even thought about how he might have to interact with the children of his father’s victims.

“They were a witch and wizard, if that’s what you mean.”

_Oh thank goodness._

Draco breathed a sigh of relief. “I don’t really think they should let the other sort in, do you? They’re just not the same, they’ve never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What’s your surname, anyway?”

He was rambling again but this time he was not paying much attention to what he was saying. He was still preoccupied with the thoughts of interacting with the orphans his father left behind. It made him feel physically ill, and he barely registered that he was on autopilot, spewing out words that he had practiced for his father and future friends.

Before he could find out the name of the boy, Madam Malkin interrupted and told him that he was finished. The boy hopped off the chair, and Draco realized he never introduced himself. “Well, I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose,” he said rather awkwardly.

The boy didn’t even bother replying.

Draco sighed and looked away as the boy exited the store.

What was wrong with him today?


	4. The First Alliance

Dobby could automatically tell Draco was in a foul mood when he entered the house. The house-elf continually glanced at him, worry shining in those big, bright eyes. Draco sneered in response, partially in attempt to keep up appearances for his father and partially due to his own frustrations at his failure today. It was his first attempt to actually make an ally, and he failed. No, not just failed. He  _humiliated_  himself. It was a foreign feeling, and Draco automatically detested it.

He wanted to run into his room and hide under his covers instead of go to that bloody school; however, he was a Malfoy, and a Malfoy always carried himself with dignity.

Besides, who cared if he could not entice a stupid mudblood?

Draco sighed, rubbing his forehead to ease his ever-growing headache. He never froze in front of another child before, and he never stumbled over his words like that. He felt fine before he saw those bright green eyes staring at him. What happened after that though? Why had the sight of those eyes stunned him?

"Draco," his father stated.

Draco froze and tried to hide his fear. Did his father somehow find out about his desire to befriend a mudblood? No, it was impossible. Right? Either way, Draco met his father's eyes with the blank expression he had been practicing over the years. "Yes Father?"

"I am going to tell you something important today. Since you are becoming a man, there are some hard truths that you need to know before leaving for school." He said.

His mother flinched but bowed her head respectively. Draco took in her expression and realized that they had both discussed this beforehand. "I understand, Father," Draco breathed out, nervousness spreading throughout his body. Somehow he knew it was going to be about the war. His father was finally going to confess his crimes and expect Draco to be on his side. It was a day Draco has prepared for since he first discovered the truth.

It was also a day that he was fully prepared for the moment his father would lie to him.

"Sit," his father gestured to their dining room table. Draco obediently walked over, and he sat down. His father and his mother sat across from him, both looking quite grim. Draco could still see Dobby in the corner of his eye, watching with distress. Still, Dobby kept up appearances by scrubbing the floors.

"Father?" Draco stared into the face that was almost identical to his own.

"We have not given you details about what transpired during the war," his father confessed. "You know that the Dark Lord attempted to keep blood purity by separating mudbloods and muggles from the Wizarding Community. You also know that your mother and I expressed support for his actions."

"I do, Father," Draco whispered, his eyes wide and heart pounding in his chest.

"The Dark Lord was faced with resistance to his plans, and he had to fight against that resistance," his father said. "Your headmaster was among that resistance as well as many of the parents of your classmates. They accepted weakness into their blood, and they fought against the Dark Lord because they did not want what was best for them. The Dark Lord fought back, and many of these students' parents perished during the war. You will be faced with many bitter children who do not fully understand the wrongness of their parents."

For some inexplicable reason, the green eyed boy flashed into Draco's mind.

"The Dark Lord appeared to be winning, and we truly thought he would conquer the Wizarding World," his father said. His eyes held a certain fondness and nostalgia for the Dark Lord, and Draco felt a queasiness rise in his stomach. It was the look of a man who was remembering when he could kill whenever he wished. It unsettled Draco, reminding him of the crimes that belonged to the man he loved.

"What happened?" Draco whispered. The lie was approaching. He could sense it.

"The Potters," his father confessed. "The Dark Lord heard a segment of a prophecy that predicted his downfall at the hands of a child. He concluded that the child was Harry Potter, and he set out to kill the child. The Dark Lord did not harm children, of course, only those who opposed him. This, however, was a necessary exception."

 _Liar_.

"He entered the house, and he took care of the parents. The pureblood married a mudblood, you see. He accepted blood impurity into his home, and the Dark Lord felt it was necessary to extinguish such monstrosity. He went to the baby's room, and he attempted to kill the child as well… no one knows what happened in that room, but the Dark Lord was defeated." Anger seeped into his father's tone, and Draco tried to stop himself from flinching. "I believe that one day the Dark Lord will return, but for now he is gone. The child, however, remains."

"Harry Potter." The name felt powerful on Draco's lips.

"I did not want to tell you the details as a child for children do not understand the violence of the world," his father confessed. "I feared you would criticize the Dark Lord's methods of obtaining blood purity."

"I would never," Draco lied. "The mudbloods have been given too many freedoms, and they can no longer taint our blood with their filth. The Dark Lord only did what was necessary for the good of all wizards. I still respect him, Father. I understand he only did what he had to do."

His father smiled. "Yes, I am glad to hear that, Draco."

His mother beamed as well. "I knew you would understand, my dear, smart boy."

Draco smiled at the compliment, even though he felt suffocated by it. His parents believed his lies just as he had believed theirs as a child.

"Draco," the smile slid from his father's face. "There is something else I must tell you."

"Yes?"

His father looked grave. "That boy will be attending your school this year. The one who defeated the Dark Lord: Harry Potter."

Draco froze. He would meet the boy who defeated the Dark Lord? The boy whose name changed his life? The boy whose parents were killed without a care by a group his parents were proudly a part of?

He felt sick.

"I want you to stay away from him," his father said carefully. "He will most likely be sorted into Gryffindor like his worthless parents, so I do not believe you will have any interactions with him. If you do, then I do not want you to befriend that boy."

"I understand, Father," Draco nodded. "I have no wishes to do so."

That, at least, was true.

"There is someone I do want you to get close to," his father continued. "Severus Snape. I assume you've heard of him?"

"Yes," Draco nodded. "My godfather?"

"He was a friend during the war, and he saved your mother's life. We honored him with the title of your godfather as a way of repaying him. He was a loyal servant to the Dark Lord, and he is the head of the Slytherin house. We still exchange letters with each other," his father explained. "He will be a good ally to you."

"I will, Father."

His father smiled at him. "I am glad we had this conversation, son. You continue to impress me with every passing day. I cannot wait to see how successful you become at Hogwarts."

Draco thanked his father and excused himself from the dinner table. He lied about wanting to read his schoolbooks before classes started to be ahead of his classmates. Numbly, he walked up the stairs to his room and into the bathroom.

When Dobby entered the room a few minutes later, he found his master vomiting into the toilet.

***

Draco entered the train after his mother kissed his cheek goodbye and his father proudly patted him on the back. He yearned for a time where those gestures didn't suffocate him like they did now. He walked onto the train, feelings of dread boiling in his stomach. At home, he at least had Dobby that he could honestly talk to. He never realized how much he would miss the elf until he left the house. Dobby was Draco's first real friend, and he had to leave the elf behind.

Behind to suffer the abuse and ridicule of his father…

Draco sighed and continued walking through the train, eyeing all the students walking by. Which would be his allies? And which would be his enemies? It was something he wished he would never have to consider, but it was his role as a Malfoy.

He entered a random compartment and paused when he saw two very familiar looking boys sitting there, stuffing their faces with candy. He recognized them from the balls he was forced to go to as a child. Judging by the way they eyed him with suspicion, they did not recognize him.

Draco paused, considering his options. They were of a respectable family, and they were clearly dumb. Perfect for good allies. "Hello," he said politely.

"Hello," the boy replied, chewing with his mouth open.

Draco smirked and confidently strode into the compartment, sliding the door shut behind him. He gracefully sat down, crossing his legs and folding his hands on his lap. He eyed them with clear interest, and they just stared back at him, confused. "I'm Draco Malfoy," he introduced himself smoothly, emphasizing his last name. "And you two are Crabbe and Goyle."

Their eyes widened at the same time. "Malfoy," Crabbe stated, understanding dawning in his eyes.

"How did you know who we were?" Goyle asked curiously.

"We met at the balls when we were children," Draco answered.

"I don't remember that…"

 _Of course you fools wouldn't,_ Draco thought to himself but said nothing. "I have a rather good memory," he shrugged. "I suppose you two expect to be in Slytherin, like myself."

"Yes," they answered at the same time.

"Then I suppose it would be rather beneficial if we stuck close to each other, considering the alliances of our parents," Draco smiled smoothly.

"Of course," Crabbe nodded.

Goyle just tilted his head to the side. "You're very thin, aren't you?"

Draco frowned. Was he supposed to be insulted by the observation? "Yes."

"But you're very smart?"

"Yes."

Goyle grinned. "If you tutor me, I'll protect you from getting beat up."

Crabbe paled at those words and immediately jammed his elbow into Goyle's side. Goyle gasped in pain, and Crabbe immediately talked over him. "I'm sorry! Goyle's an idiot! You wouldn't get beat up. You're a Malfoy!"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Of course."

He glanced at Goyle, who was still rubbing his side and pouting pathetically at Crabbe. They were both idiots, but Crabbe clearly understood the necessity behind alliances and powerful family titles far more than Goyle.

Which meant Crabbe would be loyal due to his last name, but Goyle may be a different story.

"Anyway," Crabbe sweated, clearly trying to change the subject. "I'm not looking forward to the homework. Did you see all the books we have to read? It's too much."

"Is it?" Draco blinked. "I already read all of our books."

Crabbe and Goyle both stared at him, open-mouthed. "Why?" Goyle questioned. "Don't you have other things to do than read?"

Crabbe once against paled in horror.

"I have to live up to the family name," Draco ignored the comment. "That involves being the best in all my classes. In order to do that, I have to get ahead early on."

"Oh," Goyle paused. "But isn't that lonely? Just reading all the time? I couldn't do it."

"Please shut up," Crabbe loudly hissed at Goyle.

Draco frowned, staring at Goyle, who clearly didn't realize the weight of what he just said. "Yes," Draco breathed out. "It is."

Goyle nodded, sympathy and pity flashing in his eyes. Draco flinched a bit yet at the same time felt relieved. It was a small emotional vulnerability but it still felt nice. Previously, he only spoke to Dobby about such topics. Now, he supposed he had a friend who didn't completely care about his family name.

He glanced at Crabbe only to freeze. Crabbe was staring at him with outright suspicion on his face. Clearly, he did not approve of such vulnerabilities. Still, he clearly did not possess the intelligence to hide what he was thinking, and Draco could use that to his advantage. "What?" He snapped at Crabbe. "I value my name and accept my responsibilities. I may not like everything that comes with it, but it does not mean I do not love my family and their name."

Crabbe immediately looked fearful and nodded in response. Draco smirked. Already he knew how he was going to be interacting with his new… allies? Friends? Bodyguards?

He supposed only time would tell.

Suddenly the compartment door slid open, and three giggling girls were standing there. They peered inside but pouted, clearly disappointed with what they say. Draco scowled, "What?" he snapped.

The girl frowned back. "Nothing. We were just looking for Harry Potter. He's here somewhere!"

"Harry Potter?" Draco frowned.

"Cathy!" A girl shouted from the train hallway. "I found which compartment he's in!"

The girls all gasped and shut the door, not bothering to say more to the boys. The three of them sat there in silence, and Draco narrowed his eyes. Harry Potter was on the train, and the girls knew where. Without hesitation, he stood up, walking towards the door. His father's warning of staying away flashed in his head, but he ignored it.

"Where are you going?" Crabbe asked.

"To meet Harry Potter," Draco replied.

"Why?"

Draco paused. He could hardly explain how the name and story of Harry Potter changed his life. Nor could he explain the feeling of power and awe at hearing the name of the baby who defeated the Dark Lord. "I want to see the face of the boy who ruined everything," Draco confessed with more honesty than he expected. That's right. Harry Potter shattered all of the illusions his father placed in front of him. Harry Potter's name stood out the most in all of the history textbooks as a cruel reminder of his father's beliefs.

Harry Potter was both his savior and his enemy.

"I'll come with," Goyle stood up. "I'm curious too."

Crabbe nodded. "I suppose I'll come as well."

Draco nodded, wishing he could be more appreciative of their loyalty; however, he knew it stemmed from his last name and not from him.

Together, they all exited the compartment and started asking around to which compartment Harry Potter resided in.


End file.
